It’s such a thing with these pangas, the blue, oversized nutshells that commute three times a day between Big Corn and Little Corn. During the crossing, it’s not unlikely that you will get soaking wet (which can be quite pleasant when it’s beyond thirty degrees outside) or that you’ll feel your back crack when the boat hits the hard water surface after a wave (which in turn can be quite unpleasant).
Once in awhile, it happens that a boat tips over in these rough waters. At the last accident of this kind, thirteen people lost their lives.
A pretty gruesome picture – still people here are dependent on the pangas. They are the connection between the two Corn Islands. Every food that doesn’t grow on the island, every medicine or household good, every tool, every bicycle tube and every fly swatter is brought to the island with the help of these wobbly outboard motor boats. But, above all, for the 800 inhabitants of Little Corn, the pangas are the only gateway to the outside world. Many islanders work on Big Corn, run their errands there, go to the dentist, to school. A current petition to the Nicaraguan president Daniel Ortega aims at providing the remote island with safer boats.

A seahorse
The sea is comparatively quiet on this day. After half an hour, we dock on to the narrow wooden pier on Little Corn. The locals are already waiting for the new arrivals. For a few gold córdoba, they will load up the luggage on their cargo bikes and take it to the respective accommodation. Several curious backpackers disembark, among them also Marc and Paul, the two Americans I met on Big Corn.
When Paul discovers the sea front, he lets out a »Hell, yeah!« He spreads out his arms and turns his face to the sun, »Somebody meant well with us.«
»What brings you here?« I want to know from the two.
Marc tells me that he’s just taking a time-out from his job in the States and helped build a bridge in the past weeks on the mainland, a voluntary project.
»Now we’re taking a two-week vacation. One of the construction workers told us about Little Corn.«
We strap on our backpacks and start looking for our accommodation.

Café Desideri on Little Corn’s main street
From the pier, where more locals are dosing in the shade of the trees, a maybe 1.50 meter-long narrow, paved trail runs along the western beach. Soon, it turns out that this is the island’s main street: two café/restaurants, a handful of accommodations, a diving school – that’s it. There are no cars or other motorized vehicles on Little Corn, everyone goes by foot or by bike, at a max.
»Ten Dollars a day,« the young woman at the bike rental responds when I ask about the price. Her hair is very fair and her accent sounds very familiar.
»Where are you from?« I inquire. She seems to get the punchline and answers me in German, »From Germany.« – we laugh. Clara tells me that she backpacked through Central America with a friend a few months ago. The plan was to travel from Panama to Mexico.
»And well – on the road, somebody told us about this island. And I fell in love with Roy and got stuck here, I guess.« She looks happy while she tells me all this. And even happier when Roy comes around the corner. He’s a local and from the Corn Islands and recently opened up his own business, Aqua Boy. Aqua Boy offers snorkeling and fishing tours, rents out bikes and paddling boats. Clara joined him on the spot. »As girl Friday,« she says and beams.

Clara from Bavaria taking down snorkeling hours, her new life on Little Corn.
Gary’s and Sullivan’s story is even a bit more surprising. I meet the French twins during my bike tour at the lighthouse. Clara promised me the best view over the island from there, so I went. Gary and Sullivan sit on the porch of one of the glossy painted wood bungalows which are located on the hill and show me the way to the lighthouse.
»You’ve got nice lodgings here,« I say. »How much do you pay per night?« They grin.
»We’re the owners of the hotel,« Sullivan answers.
»We built it ourselves.«
Flabbergasted, I stop in my tracks. Now I want to hear the whole story. In 2013, the twins set out from France to embark on a world trip. There was no plan of coming here. But their path crossed that of another traveler who had just returned from Little Corn and who couldn’t stop raving about it.
»So, we came here – and immediately fell in love with the island.« Gary recounts. »We always had the secret dream of opening our own hotel. Here on the hill surrounding the lighthouse we found the perfect spot to do so.«
Back in France, they took care of the financing. In 2014, they were ready to start building and opened last year.
»That sounds wonderful!« I say. They both nod.
At that moment, a gentle breeze blows over the porch and there’s a rustling in the tree tops above us. I let my eyes wander across the island, and for a moment, I picture what it would be like if I stayed here, too. I have never asked myself that question. Of course, I have always wanted to travel to these great places and see the world. That’s why I became a travel author. But on the road, I have never felt the concrete desire to remain in one of these places. Because I always believed I knew where I belonged. But now, two men my age are sitting before me who questioned exactly that: where they belong and where they would like to be. Together, they gave up their entire life in France and moved to a place most people haven’t even heard of. Nobody whom I met on my trip knew that Little Corn even existed before they landed here. Three years back, that’s what it was like for Gary and Sullivan. Now, this island has become their home.
»Let me guess,« Gary interrupts my silence and gazing. »You’re asking yourself what kind of a place this is here, aren’t you?« At a loss, I nod and hunch my shoulders.
»That’s exactly how I stood here back then, on this hill, trying to make sense of Little Corn.« And then he says, like only someone with a French accent can say it in English,
»I don’t know, man. It’s magic.«
* * *
Readers Mail
Tell us what you think
Alex Sefrin on 23. Oktober 2016
Lange musste man warten, um mal wieder was von Dir zu hören und dann so was!!!
Danke Christoph für diese wunderbar Episode!
Nach Nicaragua hat es mich bisher noch nie gezogen, aber ich glaube, ich muss nach Little Corn, unbedingt.
Christoph on 25. Oktober 2016
Vielen Dank, Alex!
Joshua Pfeil on 25. Dezember 2017
Ich bin sprachlos. Bin durch das ständige Rumstöbern auf deine Seite gefunden und konnte mir diese Reise nach Little Vorn nicht entgehen lassen. Nicht nur super geschrieben, sondern auch mit dem Design, Bildern und die Emotionen die rüber kommen einfach nur klasse! Vielen lieben Dank für die Inspirationen… :)
Liebe Grüße,
Joshua.
christian on 10. Mai 2018
This is an amazing article/story; the best written travel report I’ve ever read